Begin Again
by Apalapucian
Summary: She smiles at him, warm and wide, and James is amazed at how massive of a moron Terrence is for letting something like that get away.


**AN:** Inspired by Taylor Swift's song of the same name, although not exactly _based _on it.

* * *

She sits alone in a booth for four in the farthest corner of the coffee shop, cream-hat covered red head standing out in the barely occupied place. She's absorbed in a book she seems to be reaching the last page of, but she's not very pleased with it. Lower lip jutted out, crease between her eyebrows. Her fingers tap absently on her mug to the beat of the tinkling music wafting all around the shop, and James watches from the threshold, drawn, reminiscent.

Sirius said he'd meet him here, he just had to fetch the others—_cool shop I found, mate; they're hosting an exhibit for these classic brooms on Wednesday_—but James knew as soon as he saw the sign outside that his best mate was only pulling his leg.

_Still._

He makes his way in. He'd deal with Sirius later.

His hands get clammier the nearer her gets.

"Hey," he says tentatively upon reaching her booth. The surprise on her face isn't entirely unexpected, but James hopes she wouldn't be too bummed by his sudden appearance.

"Hi," she says, and it comes out like a question. Her bemusement carries on for a few more seconds, and then she tilts her head to the side as she realizes something. "Did Remus and Peter…"

James then pieces it together, too. "Sirius," he sighs. "He told me to… sorry, never mind. I can go."

"Don't be daft."

He huffs, but he's more than happy to take the seat across her. "So." He folds his hands on the table.

"So."

"What did he tell you then?"

"Sirius? No, he didn't tell me anything," explains Lily. "The other two mentioned a display of Tarry Bean's handwritten manuscripts, though." She looks around the coffee shop. "Either they sent me to the wrong place, or…" She trails off, gesturing between them, raising a suspicious eyebrow at him.

James stares back defensively. "I have nothing to do with it."

Lily's expression doesn't change.

He rolls his eyes. "I solemnly swear."

That makes her laugh. "Alright."

They are quiet. He wants to ask her how she is, if she's doing okay, if she would mind so much if he accidentally set Terrence Hunter's hair on fire—

"It's Terrence, isn't it?" she says, as if reading his mind. Her eyes don't leave the book, and James wonders if it's because she can't, or because she won't.

"What?"

"You're here because of Terrence?" She turns a page, still not looking at him.

He's not here because of the blighter, not really, but now he reckons—he's almost sure—his _mates_ sent him here for it.

"Not necessarily," he answers. "Are you okay, though?"

"He's a git."

"Do you mind if I set his hair on fire?"

Lily's head snaps up. "Don't even think about it."

"Well, he's a git."

"No."

"No?"

"_No._"

"Hmm."

"_James._"

"Sure?"

Lily sighs. "He's not worth it."

"Okay."

They look at each other for a moment, getting into each other's heads. Lily looks down and turns another page. "Aren't you going to get anything?"

"Get anything…?"

She tips her mug towards him. "We might be here a while."

"Oh. Yeah. I'll… okay. Back in a mo'."

* * *

When he returns, Lily's book is closed.

"Good read?"

"I'm not crazy over it."

"Shame."

"Mhmm. So what did Sirius tell _you_? Not Tarry Bean, I imagine?"

"Quidditch," answers James. "Vintage broom exhibit."

"You're so weird."

"Says Tarry Bean girl," he retorts. "She's not even _that_ good."

Lily leans in in surprise. "You read Tarry?"

"Mum's favourite. She's obsessed with those Drizzle books—"

Lily lights up. "Those are _fantastic_!"

James scoffs. "They weren't _engaging_. Not like Block Seven—"

"Block Seven's plot doesn't make much sense—"

Now James pushes himself off the back of the chair. "Excuse you, Evans, it's a _magnum opus._ Jeremy Travis—"

"Is the worst cliche of a character ever?"

"—is the best character ever written!"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Are _you_ kidding me? _Honestly_. You like Tara Drizzle, and you think Jeremy Travis is a bloody cliche—"

"Tara isn't an arsehole, for one, unlike—"

"Oh, please. Jeremy is…"

He stops, trails off as he notices Lily's gaze shift from himself to the table—where their hands have somehow ended up on top of the other. James leans back and snatches his hand away. He clears his throat.

He's about to apologize when he notices how Lily, for some reason, looks instead like she's going to laugh, knuckles pressed against her pursed lips.

"What?" asks James nervously—were his hands that sweaty? Oh, Godric.

"Nothing."

"_What?_"

"I don't know!" She lets out a giggle, then he's laughing with her—how can he not?—and then they're having a positive fit over their drinks.

"I didn't know you read Tarry," says Lily at last, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Just mostly because of my mum."

"I'd love to meet her," she blurts out, and James smiles stupidly at his drink. Lily doesn't miss it, and backtracks immediately. "I didn't mean—"

"No, yeah, I know."

"She just… seems cool."

"She is." He hesitates. "Listen, you can… erm, come visit. Any time. You know, with Remus. Or Marlene. If you want."

She smiles at him, warm and wide. James is amazed at how massive of a moron Terrence Hunter is for letting something like that get away.

"We have Tarry's manuscripts in the library," he tells her.

Lily's eyes widen. "Are you joking?"

James laughs and shakes his head. "You're such a dork."

Lily swats his hand; it's the only thing she can reach across the table. "No, but really?"

"Well, not all of them."

"The Drizzle series?"

He looks smug. "Are you coming over?"

Lily starts to respond, but a familiar deep chortle steals her attention. She looks around. Her excited smile slowly fades in synch with the faltering sound of wind chimes.

Terrence Hunter is in the shop, all perfect brown curls and prominent cheekbones. A tall brunette clings onto his arm. She spots James and Lily first—it's hard to miss a pair of shocking red and exploding black—and she starts. She nudges Terrence, who follows her gaze and imminently sports his own surprise. He wavers, but he starts walking to them anyway.

Lily stills, doesn't move _at all_, and James's fingers twitch into a fist on the table at the sight of her like that.

Terrence stands awkwardly over their table. James wants to punch him.

"Hey, Lils," the blighter begins. "James… I, erm—fancy seeing you two here."

"You, too," says Lily without a beat. She's smiling now. Sort of. James doesn't say anything. He takes a sip of his drink and watches Lily warily over the rim. She turns to the girl. "Hi there. You're…?"

The girl fumbles, clearly not expecting to be addressed. "Um, Jeanne."

"I'm Lily." And Lily sounds genuinely nice—she _always_ sounds nice, bloody hell—but James isn't buying her chirp. She doesn't offer Jeanne her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah… likewise."

"Yes, well…" Lily stands. James gets to his feet as well and without question. "We were just going. James here… he's got—some stuff…"

James makes a show of checking his watch. "You mean I've got three best friends who'd skin me alive for being this late?" he says smoothly. "Hurry up, let's go."

Lily meets his eye, and James nods. "Right," she mutters. "I… yeah. See you around then."

She walks away. Her steps are too ragged, pace too brisk.

James grabs the book on the table and follows Lily out without a word to Terrence and Jeanne.

Lily waited for him outside. He hands her the book, and they start walking down High Street. It would be stupid to ask how she is now, so he shoves his hands in his pockets and remains silent.

"How about the Seine series?"

Her voice is an octave higher, and it mildly trembles in the wintry air.

"Seine?"

"Yeah. The trilogy. Do you like those?"

James considers it. "More than Drizzle."

"And Allison Treehouse?"

"That's not by Tarry."

She cracks a small smile. "I was testing you."

"I'm more than just my charm and good looks, you know."

She laughs. And then something breaks, something must have, because when her laughter dies so does the rigidness in her shoulders and the light in her eyes. She stops on her tracks, and James frowns as she looks away and bites her lip.

He doesn't even think about it; he tugs at her hand then pulls her into his arms. He doesn't let go, and she lets him keep her there. She doesn't cry. Just buries her face in his chest, hands gripping the back of his shirt.

When she pulls away, a little while later, her cheeks are flushed and her eyes stay on the road.

They start walking again. This time, it's James who breaks the silence.

"My mum makes really good cinnamon rolls."

She takes her time to answer, but she doesn't disappoint. "Even on short notice?"

He grins. "I suppose we can go check out the Drizzle manuscripts while we wait."

"Okay."

He drapes an arm around her, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. She doesn't shrug him off. It might mean nothing, it might mean everything, but he doesn't think about any of that. Maybe later. For now, she's smiling up at him, fond and genuine, and she seems okay—_sort of, almost, getting there_—and he's there with her to make sure it doesn't go away.

"Brilliant."

For now, that's all that matters.


End file.
